by Southern Comfort
Monday, August 17, 2009
Rated "G" by the Author.
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When they return from War's Hell, they will never again be the innocent boys and girls they once were, they are broken, scarred by the Hell Of War. They need our love and understanding.
Once he was just his mother's little boy,
A source of delight for his Dad, Dad's pride and joy.
He enjoyed the harvest of living free,
Far removed from War's Hell, it's sorrow left him be.
Then he heard War's battle cry, screamed upon the wind,
Freedom was needing the help of a few good men.
So he heeded the call, this untouched, fresh-faced lad,
He bravely kissed his Mother and hugged his Dad.
He journeyed into a land, with endless sand,
Where fresh-faced lads don't exist, they transform into a stoned-face man.
Daily he had to endure War's living Hell,
He learned to stuff feelings too frightening to tell.
Softness became a luxury, a source to help you die,
As comrads die around you, with no time to feel or cry.
He had become a trained Killing Machine,
Finally numb to the horrors he's seen.
He lives amid the sound of screaming bombs and the smell of burned skin,
The sight of charred bodies, that use to be men.
Death is a looming shadow, that hovers each day,
He knows it stalks him, he is it's prey.
He silently wonders, if he will survive,
His daily task, is to remain alive.
He knows he'll never be that fresh-faced lad again,
He is now War's broken toy, that life cannot mend.
A sad stranger, will resume his former life,
Will loved ones be able to cope with the stranger's mood swings and strife?
He is War's Walking Wounded, War has stolen his mind,
He has finally come home, but will never leave The War behind.
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|Reviewed by Kathleen McDonald
|a wonderful tribute
|Reviewed by Tony Jenkins
|You have a way with words SC.
A sad tribute.
|Reviewed by D. Vaineo
|S C, How sad but true! War is costly in so many ways. . .it robs
these soldiers of who they were. Peace,on the other hand,is the chosen alternative for mankind and I believe we can make it happen. . . ONE DAY.
|Reviewed by Liana Margiva
|EXCELLENT!!!!!!!!!!!! MOST TALENTED WORDS!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva|
|Reviewed by Don Juan Amante
|war is indeed hell and your poem is exceptional|
|Reviewed by ~ H (Reader)
|Hi there SC, sorry I took so long coming to review...your words are so true. I hate war. A well written poem my friend, love Holly|
|Reviewed by Karen Palumbo
|Oh how close to home you come with the truth of it all because so many are never the same again...
Be always safe,
|Reviewed by Georg Mateos
|If I don't recall wrong, they said to the soldiers coming back from Nam that they were being drama queens and that nothing wrong was with them, and that anything they had they never got when on duty.
Broken, many are not because of the war, but because of indiference from the ones that should know better.
|Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
|War affects much more than just the body, as your poem powerfully suggests. Heartshattering poem; well done, SC!
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Li'l Twister. :(
|Reviewed by Rose Rideout
|It is so sad but so true Sc. My husbands job is to help those who suffer with Post Tramatic Stress Disorder when they return along with those medically discharged and the Veterins. He makes sure they get what they need and deserve. Thank you for sharing, so many don't realize what our children go through and you are right, they leave so innsocent and return as stone from war's living hell. Thank you again SC.
Newfie Hugs, Rose
|Reviewed by Lori Moore
|"The harvest of living free" is a powerful line. Excellent write.|
|Reviewed by Gene Williamson
|SC, there's a "You are There" presence in this remarkable poem;
moving moments and painful lines. Memorable. -gene.
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
There's much beauty and pain and horror in this wonderful, moving poem, so many keenly felt moments and excellent phrases and lines, too many to quote, but, "...the harvest of living free" and, "Where fresh-faced lads don't exist, they transform into a stone-faced man." willl stay with me all time.
|Reviewed by Felix Perry
|Call it Post Traiatic Stress Disorder, shell shocked or just plained burned out in the mind from too much horror...these men suffer just as much as those with bullet holes of bomb fragments...we just don't take the time to look at their scars...
|Reviewed by Rey C
|your poetry brings memories, aloha!|